


The Home-plate Monologue

by TheWaterIsASham



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Monologue, Philadelphia Pies, Screenplay/Script Format, seattle garages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:42:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26670856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWaterIsASham/pseuds/TheWaterIsASham
Summary: Lang Richardson uses his at-bat against Jaylen Hotdogfingers to monologue about the nature of home-plate, blaseball and home.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	The Home-plate Monologue

**Author's Note:**

> Lang Gang for life.

[LANG RICHARDSON comes up to the plate to bat. He taps his bat on the plate rhythmically to que a spotlight, which shines down on him]

**Lang** : You know they call this home plate? But is it really home plate from this side, when one comes from the dugout rather than from a journey around the bases. Am I truly home at this plate? As I wait for the pitches to come for me. To find out if my journey is cut short before it even begins. I am different now, than I am when I come home. I have a bat now that I will drop, I am at the mercy of the pitcher rather than the fielders. I am brought forth by music though you know I may well fail. More of us fail than succeed here at home, doomed to be boo-ed back to the dugout rather than having a chance to return to where we started in triumph. 

[At the mound JAYLEN HOTDOGFINGERS throws her first pitch. It is called as strike one ]

**Lang** : They say you can never come home again. That would be a silly thing for a Blaseball player to believe, as getting to home again is the entire goal. And yet I find myself believing it. Perhaps because the home we leave is not the home we return to. We enter as challengers and return as champions. We are batters, then runners, then back to the dugout again. Perhaps we can never return home because we never truly leave it.

[Jaylen throws another pitch. It is called as ball one]

**Lang** : I know this stadium. I know the grass in the outfield. I know the smell of the dugout. I know the juice you all will drink when this is done. But I also know that I will drink none of it. My lights are here still so in a way I am still here and it is still here in me. But by the same logic I remain in Philadelphia, where I have new grass, new smells, New Delicious Tastykake® products to eat when the game is done. Can I have two homes? Is the heart a servant of as many masters the gods rule it to take? 

[Jaylen throws a third pitch. It is called as strike two]

**Lang** : And what is there to be said for the people who build a home? Are they mere wood in the ship of theseus? Replaced over and over until only the idea of what they were remains in the place they once called a home. Or do we each take a piece with us as we go, creating a puzzle of mismatched pieces that forms a home all its own. In that case would this be the home of the Pies, because Sophia’s piece is here? Or is it the Tigers? Is it both or neither? A runner on first is neither home, nor is he the batter he was before. He is a man in transit, looking forward and back to two places that are both identical and worlds apart. He has no home at first, but will likely be there far longer than he was ever at home. 

[Jaylen throws another pitch, but her heart is clearly not in it. It is called as ball two]

**Lang** : And yet by being on first he distinguishes himself far more than he was as a batter. He has become special, a burst of life in stagnation. So few at bats lead to a man on first. Even fewer lead him farther. A man on first has the endless potential of knowing he is already special, knowing he has the potential to be great. They have entered somewhere new, somewhere that is not home, but they are so at risk of still becoming out. You are either Home or you are Out or you are in the limbo of being on base. So, So many of us are out. It is clear when you are out. 

[Jaylen throws another pitch. It is called as ball three]

**Lang** : But I am not out. So the question arises of what I am. I have changed from what I was when I started. I have shed the bat of innocence, and those who seek to stop me have changed. I have neither music nor boos to guide me. But have I slid into a home plate that is so very different than the one I left, or have I simply changed from batter to runner. How many bases must I run. Have any of us ever made it home? How many Bases are left to run.

[Jaylen throws a pitch right as Lang moves to dramatically gesture over the plate. What was supposed to be strike three instead collides with Lang’s body. The sound of a microphone falling echos through a suddenly silent stadium. Lang looks at Jaylen for the first time since he left the dugout. She is horrified.]

  
**Umpire** : Hit by Pitch. The runner advances.


End file.
